


The Adventure Of The Love-Potion (1881)

by Cerdic519



Series: Elementary 221B [30]
Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Destiel - Freeform, F/M, Johnlock - Freeform, Love Potion/Spell, M/M, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Untold Cases of Sherlock Holmes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-11
Updated: 2017-04-11
Packaged: 2018-10-17 15:44:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10597143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerdic519/pseuds/Cerdic519
Summary: A medically-themed affair that starts with an explosion just along from Holmes' and Watson's rooms, and ends with proof that sometimes, one really can have too much of a good thing. The good thing in this case being sex.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sabris](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sabris/gifts).



> Mentioned elsewhere as 'the Manor House case, involving Doctor Adams'.

Few people can have exploded – quite literally, in his case – more dramatically into the lives of Holmes and myself than the hapless Doctor Nebuchadnezzar Adams. At a time of great medical advancement, scientists were often making discoveries and pronouncements that, more than once, caused me a degree of unease. I remember thinking that the day would soon come whereby Mankind would have to make some difficult choices about what could be done in the name of humanity, and what actually should be done. One of the first people to face that hurdle was Doctor Adams, whose medical discoveries were – well, as I said, explosive. Fatally, for one person.

And because some scruffy-haired blue-eyed soon to be ex-friend of mine would not let me start this tale without saying it, yes. I had to include this story in this final “Elementary” because he insisted. Despite my own humiliation arising thereof!

+~+~+

London, then as now, was a city full of surprises. However, few surpassed the one at breakfast that Spring morning, when the city was for once not wrapped in its standard fog and looking almost presentable. Holmes had had several cases since Christmas and our 'preternatural' encounter with the Wriothesleys in Essex, but none had been worthy of note. I was sat awaiting my friend at the breakfast table; normally he was horrible in the mornings, although once re-caffeinated he usually became (fairly) human again.

I was perusing the newspaper when there was a muffled explosion from outside. I hurried to the window and opened it, and leaning out saw that there was smoke coming from the building – the daftly named 'Manor House', if my memory served me correctly - three houses down on the opposite side of the road. Fortunately there did not seem to be any flames, and after a short while the smoke died away, to the probable disappointment of the inevitable crowd of onlookers.....

“Must you be so loud?”

Holmes had emerged silently from his room, and I managed to knock my head against the window in surprise before pulling in and turning to face him. 

“There was an explosion”, I said, stating the obvious as ever.

He squinted at me in disapproval. Fortunately I was spared his witty retort by the sound of banging at our house door, followed by hurried steps on the stairs. Just moments later, our door flew open and a scruffy man all but fell in, to the evident consternation of Janet the maid, who was hurrying up behind him. He was about forty-five years of age, untidily dressed and clearly over-excited.

“Gentlemen!” he panted. “I am Doctor Nebuchadnezzar Adams!”

Had he declared himself the rightful King of England, it would have better fitted his tone. Clearly we were meant to either be impressed and/or to know who the hell he was, and in both those ambitions he signally failed.

“Please be seated, Doctor Adams”, Holmes said calmly, leading him to the fireside chair whilst I went to the table to get my notepad and pencil. “Am I to assume that your presence here is due to the loud report that came from the street some minutes past?”

Somehow the doctor's face went even redder.

“Sabotage!” he spluttered. “Those ne'er-do-wells at the University are jealous of my research.”

“And precisely what are you researching?” Holmes asked languidly. He was as yet un-caffeinated, so I was quite impressed that he was managing as well as he was just then.

“Sex”, our visitor said firmly.

I nearly broke my pencil. One does not expect to hear such words of a morning. Holmes, of course, did not even flinch, though that may have been because our coffee arrived at that same moment.

“Can you be a little more precise, doctor?” he asked dryly.

“I am researching as to whether men can increase their chances of acquiring a mate by intensifying their innate scent”, he explained. “It works for some animals in nature, and I fully believe that it can be made to work for humans too.”

I frankly did not like the idea, but then, I supposed, that was one of the perils of advancing through research. Like Pandora's Box, one never quite knew what 'box of delights' one might be opening next.

“And what form do these investigations take?” Holmes asked.

“The subject attempts to boost their scent's carrying power by the application of various chemical compounds that I am experimenting with”, the doctor said. “My assistant Mr. Wade – a reliable fellow, if a little young – is prone to give them fanciful names, but that is his only weakness, thankfully. We had had what had seemed to be a modicum of success with the last one, which he called "Nightmare" because of its dark colouring, but our test subject has now been coerced into pulling out of the experiment. The fellow sent a message this morning to say that he would not be coming in today. And now this!”

Holmes pressed his fingers together thoughtfully. 

“I think that the doctor and I should come and see your laboratory”, he said, “or at least what remains of it. I suggest that you return there and try to avoid touching anything, and the doctor and I will be along once we have breakfasted and dressed. You might use the time to assess the damage and make a list of anything that appears to be missing.”

Judging from his expression, our visitor was a little put out by Holmes' apparent lack of urgency, but he nodded and excused himself. Holmes looked after him thoughtfully.

+~+~+

Just under an hour later we had crossed the road and were inside the Manor House. Structural engineers were still checking the building, but they had deemed it safe to enter, the only problem being the lingering stench of smoke. One wall along the north side of the building had been partly destroyed with bricks falling into the adjoining alley, and the laboratory itself was a mess. Holmes looked around him.

“You said that you are possessed of an assistant”, he reminded the doctor. “Is he available?”

“He should have been in by now”, the doctor said, sounding vexed. “He normally works in the small room through there. I was supposed to have left for my train and a day with my sister in Colchester, but I overslept. And my only servant, Quinton, was taken to the hospital for a check-up, so I cannot ask him.”

He gestured to a battered green door in one wall of the room. Holmes crossed to it, opened it and looked into the room behind.

“Doctor”, he said, far too casually, “can you come and take a look at this?”

Worried, I crossed the room and looked through the door. The small room behind was where the explosion had clearly been centred, the wall to the outside having been the one partly demolished, affording an excellent view of the wall of the adjoining house less than five feet across the rubble-strewn alley. There was some shattered glass on the floor, for which the doctor later explained that the wall had contained a door (always locked, and he had the only key) with an overhead window.

Oh, and there was a dead body on the floor. 

“Mr. Wade!” Doctor Adams exclaimed in horror.

I hurried forward to examine the dead man. Apart from the fact that his horrified expression (which I tried not to look at) suggested that he had seen his doom coming upon him, it was unclear as to exactly what he had died of.

“A heart-attack is the most likely cause of death”, I remarked, scratching my head, “but I cannot for the life of me see what caused it. He was a healthy young man, and unless he had some inherent weakness of the heart, it is a mystery.”

“He was very fit”, Doctor Adams said stoutly. “He walked here from his house every day, even though it is at least two miles away.”

Holmes looked thoughtfully around the room, then nodded to himself before ushering us both out and closing the door behind him.

“Doctor Adams”, he said calmly, “today I would like you to do a complete inventory of things here, and tell me what, if anything, is missing. I have an idea as to what may have happened here, but as my friend the doctor knows, I have an appointment in the City today that I cannot miss.”

I knew that he had no such appointment, but guessed that he needed to make some inquiries without further annoying our client.

“I can stay and help”, I offered. “It is my day off.”

“That would be appreciated”, Holmes smiled, though I sensed there was a strain behind the smile. “I shall also need a complete list of everyone who came to the house in the past twenty-four hours, and your assistant's movements up to the time of his death, as far as they can be ascertained.”

“Have you any idea who could have done this?” Doctor Adams wondered. “Surely not a fellow medic?”

“My current belief is that your fellow doctors are innocent in this particular matter”, Holmes said, “but I would rather wait until you have checked to see what is missing. If it what I think it is, then the matter is easily resolved. I shall however be inquiring as to why your recent test subject withdrew.”

Doctor Adams looked annoyed at the lack of information, but I knew that Holmes would say no more. He quickly left, and I set about helping the doctor line up what remained of his samples.

+~+~+

“That is odd”, Doctor Adams remarked as we checked the remaining samples. “I am missing a large bottle of "Nightmare".”

I smiled covertly at the ridiculous name.

“How large a bottle?” I asked.

“The equivalent of thirty-six of these vials”, he replied, holding up a tiny empty glass vial that could not have contained more than a teaspoonful of liquid. “Since Mr. Wade's notes were in that room, I shall have to start again from scratch.”

“Is there enough in there for what you want?” I wondered. 

The doctor smiled.

“This would hold one full dose”, he explained. “Applied to the scent glands, it magnifies the man's innate scent by a factor of several dozen, at least. It is powerful material, doctor.”

“A love potion”, I muttered under my breath once the doctor had moved away. “In this day and age!”

I thought about that as I checked the scene of the explosion one last time. Under the solid oak desk, which had survived the explosion charred but unbowed, I found one more small vial, filled this time. 

I slid it quietly into my pocket. Because.

+~+~+

I fully expected to see Doctor Adams that evening, but late that evening he wired us to say that he would have to stay the night in Essex, and would see us the following evening instead. Instead, I ran Holmes through the list of people who had come to the house.

“When he said he only kept one servant there, that was not quite true”, I began. “The Manor House is one of four adjoining properties that are overseen by a housekeeper, a Mrs. Bell. Frankly she is terrifying; I doubt even one of those Turkish rug salesmen could get past her! Think Catherine the Great, but with more attitude. She has maids to clean the place, but they clean the four houses in the same order every day, and had not started on the Manor House when the explosion happened.”

I opened my notebook.

“Doctor Adams' house had three visitors the day before the explosion”, I said. “The first caller was a fellow medic, a Doctor Philip Wealdstone...”

“Not him”, Holmes said at once. 

I looked at him in surprise, but he said nothing. He had come home in a rather bad mood, and I hoped that it had nothing to do with my using too much hot water for the bath that I had taken on arriving not long before him. 

“In the afternoon, at around two, Doctor Adams' brother – well, half-brother – Doctor Edmund Rusper called round”, I said. “The two do not get on; Doctor Rusper part-owns a medical magazine which recently published an article highly critical of Doctor Adams' studies. And Doctor Rusper walked straight into the room where Mr. Wade was working. That was the time that the maids were cleaning the Manor House, and one of them saw him.”

“Did they notice if Mr. Wade spotted him?” Holmes asked.

“Doctor Adams told me that his assistant often got carried away in his studies”, I said, “and had not noticed he himself entering and leaving a room on more than one occasion. And finally Mrs. Sellers, one of the doctor's few regular patients, called round to collect some pills just after Doctor Rusper. Because Mr. Wade gets so distracted, one of the maids let her in. The girl told me that she thought her coming 'a bit odd'.”

“Why?” Holmes asked.

“She is rich enough to send a servant”, I said, “although she claimed that she was visiting a friend in the area. Doctor Adams was in the house, but in the water closet when she was admitted, and she was alone in the laboratory for some little time.”

“But no appreciable motive”, Holmes said. “No, it cannot be her, either. What about the day in question?”

“Mr. Wade arrived at eight, half an hour ahead of his usual start time”, I said, reading my notes. “As things turned out that was just as well, because he had left his umbrella at the local paper shop, and had to dash back for it.”

Holmes smiled knowingly. I hated it when he did that!

“He returned to the house at a quarter-past eight”, I said, “and the explosion that took his life happened, as we know, fifteen minutes later. I do not see how that helps us, really.”

“On the contrary”, Holmes said. “It makes everything almost completely clear. Tell me, did Mr. Wade have a lady friend with whom he was pursuing a relationship?”

“Yes”, I said, “though I don't see how that helps. A local girl called Alice Salton, just turned twenty-one. What does she have to do with all this?”

“I hope to be able to tell Doctor Adams that tomorrow”, he said mysteriously. “Oh, and I eliminated the possibility of the test subject. Mr. Allen inherited a house in Surrey from an uncle he barely knew existed, and had to go there to sort out certain legal matters surrounding that as a matter of urgency.”

I nodded.

“The only thing that I do not know”, he said, sounding vexed, “is as to whether this '"Nightmare"' really does work as the doctor claims. That would help me immeasurably.”

I smiled, but said nothing. For once I would be ahead of him in the hunt!

+~+~+

I was at work the following day, and arrived home feeling tired and footsore. There was no sign of my genius friend, so I decided that this might be an excellent chance to test if my fellow medic really had created something that worked as he claimed. Applying the contents of the vial to my glands – it smelt atrocious, by the way – I readied myself to go out, only for the visitor's bell to ring. I sighed in annoyance.

I was fully dressed by the time the maid showed in three ladies who, by their attire, I quickly judged were of the 'negotiable affection' variety. The tallest of the three smiled at me.

“I am Miss.... Smith”, she said (I spotted the hesitation), and these are... Miss Jones and Miss Clark. We called on Mr. Holmes earlier but he was out, and.....”

She stopped. Then she sniffed in my direction, and her eyes widened. And then she smiled, the sort of feral smile which made me glad that I was nearer to my (lockable) bedroom door than she was. 

“Doctor”, she purred, edging towards me.

“Ladies, really.....”

“I am sure that the good doctor could be, ahem, 'persuaded' to give us all an examination”, 'Miss Clark' simpered. “Possibly all at the same time.”

I did not whimper. Even if it may have sounded like it.

“Mr. Holmes will be back soon”, I parried.

“Then we need something to occupy the time”, 'Miss Jones' said, and Lord preserve us, she was actually unbuttoning her dress. I yelped in horror and bolted for the safety of my room.

I didn't make it. Not because they caught me, but because Holmes' own door opened and he came out, smiling.

“Thank you, ladies”, he smiled, handing each of them what was undeniably a note. They each curtseyed to him (there was definitely some simpering as well) before leaving the room. I stared at him in a mixture of horror and fury.

“So”, he grinned. “Does 'Nightmare' work for you, doctor?”

“You knew!” I hissed. “How the blazes did you know?”

“You make a terrible poker player, doctor”, he smirked. “When I suggested finding out whether the potion worked or not last night, you looked far too smug. I contacted Doctor Adams today, and he confirmed that he was missing not just the large bottle but also two single vials. You took one, and used it to further your own ends. For shame!”

“Shame?” I squeaked indignantly. “You set me up!”

“Yes.”

I glared at him, then stormed into my room and slammed the door. Bastard!

+~+~+

Doctor Adams was due later that day, so I was not surprised to see Holmes setting the table up for coffees. Nor was I surprised to see a pleased smirk on his face all day, which I could well have done without! The doctor arrived punctually at half-past five as requested, and Holmes bade him sit down.

“I am also expecting someone else”, he explained, “who I expect can throw a light on the events surrounding your unfortunate assistant's demise.”

“His killer?” Doctor Adams asked, clearly aghast.

“Not exactly”, Holmes said mysteriously.

Before either of us could press him to explain that cryptic remark, there was a knock at the door. Holmes opened it and ushered in a small, thin girl, with flaxen hair and an expression that was verging on terrified. Doctor Adams looked surprised at the sight of her.

“Alice?” he said querulously. “What are you doing here?”

Holmes helped the girl be seated at the table opposite me, and took his own position by the fireplace. I was rapidly coming to the conclusion that he enjoyed these moments in cases, explaining what had happened and how he had cracked the case. Well, he deserved his moment of vanity. Even if he was a smug bastard who took advantage of a poor, gullible friend who had only been trying to help.

He shot me a knowing look, and I pou.... scowled. I hated it when he did that, too!

“When I said that Miss Salton here was 'not exactly' the killer of her boyfriend Mr. Wade, I spoke the truth”, Holmes began. “It is a most unfortunate tale, in that whilst Miss Salton was technically responsible for Mr. Wade's death, it was an accident arising from a most unusual set of circumstances.”

Miss Salton sniffed dolefully.

“Whilst in your home yesterday, doctor, I abstracted one of your vials of "Nightmare"”, Holmes continued, giving me a swift side-glance (my blush was not that bad!). “I wished to have it scientifically tested by a friend in London to see if my theory, which I knew was right in every other aspect, was totally correct. The telegram I received subsequently was only confirmation of what really happened that cold and terrible morning.”

“Mr. Wade comes to the house some time before his normal hour, which was remarked upon by more than one person as highly unusual. I tied this in with something you told me, Doctor Adams, namely that you expected to be away from the house all that day, but had been delayed in your departure, which was why you were still there. Most fortunately, in light of what was about to happen, in another part of the house.”

“Mr. Wade had decided that, with his employer supposedly out of the house all day, he would smuggle in his girlfriend to keep him company at work. Well, these things happen, do they not? He arrives early, and slips in through the servants' entrance. Next, he passes his long-coat out through the narrow window over the door in his room to Miss Salton who is waiting outside. As you told me, that door is kept locked and you have the only key, so no-one could have gained access to the house that way.”

“After a few moments, Mr. Wade calls to one of the maids that he had left his umbrella at the paper-shop, and is dashing back to retrieve it. He slips back to his room, and some minutes later Miss Salton, disguised in his long-coat, manages to join him undetected. It is a busy time of the day for the servants who have to clean through four adjoining houses, and no-one is likely to notice that the Mr. Wade who 'returns' is a little shorter and thinner than the one who arrived ten minutes earlier. The entrance to the laboratory is near the front door to which Mr. Wade has a key, so the risk of detection is minimal.”

Miss Salton blushed, and looked at her shoes.

“It is now, most unhappily, that disaster strikes”, Holmes explained. “Doubtless Mr. Wade had explained to Miss Salton that the "Nightmare" preparation greatly increased the human scent, enabling the wearer to more likely attract a suitable mate. I would surmise that, at an untimely moment, Mr. Wade had to visit the water closet. Miss Salton, fatally, decides to surprise her boyfriend, and applies most of the large bottle of '"Nightmare"' to herself.”

Our guest tried unsuccessfully to bite back a sob. Holmes sent her a comforting look.

“You could not know either that you had greatly exceeded the advised dosage, or that the effect on female glands, which are different to male ones, would be so much more pronounced”, he said ruefully. “Poor Mr. Wade came through the door, walked up to you, took one sniff and promptly had a heart-attack! The desire and the want overloaded the human body, which at the end of the day is a fragile thing. Something many scientists might do well to remember.”

I noticed Doctor Adams lowering his glance at the reproof.

“And the explosion?” he muttered to the fireside rug.

“In his panic to get out, I would suggest that Miss Salton knocked over the remains of the "Nightmare"”, Holmes said. “We know, because you told us, that Mr. Wade often had several sets of chemicals on his table where he worked, and from the amount of glass around the work-table he must have set up for the day. Whilst your compound seems to have some, ahem, success in its aims, Doctor Adams, my scientist friend tells me that it is quite reactive, and exposure to a large quantity of several common chemicals could result in an explosion. Clearly that was what happened this time.”

“I hid behind the desk when I saw the black stuff bubbling”, Miss Salton said, her voice breaking as she spoke, “and that protected me from the worst of the blast. Poor Bill was just lying there, dead as a door-nail. Then I escaped through the broken wall, down to the back alleyway.”

“Clearly not murder”, Holmes said firmly, “as there was no premeditation, let alone motive. Rather a tragic accident. I might suggest, doctor, that your researching energies be directed somewhere else in future.”

The doctor nodded fervently.

+~+~+

“Poor Miss Salton!” I said later, once our guests had gone their separate ways. “She only wanted to surprise her boyfriend, and look what happened!”

“Indeed”, Holmes said. “People who mess with things they know not are just asking for trouble.”

I looked at him sharply, but he merely smiled innocently back at me. 

“How did you know none of the three people who came to the house could be involved?” I wondered

“Because when I checked under the oak desk, the scent of what I now know to be Miss Salton's perfume was still powerful there”, Holmes said. “Neither of the men would wear it, and as it is an exceptionally cheap and common fragrance I did not see someone as rich as the sole female visitor using it either. Let alone what she might be doing under a desk!”

“Do you think that they will ever manage to create something that will work like "Nightmare" should have done?” I wondered. “After all, that is what humanity is all about – finding your perfect partner.”

“Something most people strive for”, Holmes agreed. 

I wondered, not for the first time, how I might feel when one of us found their perfect partner. It would surely change our partnership in some way, possibly even breaking it. For some reason I felt cold at the thought.

+~+~+

Medical matters dominate in our next case too, as a certain Mr. Holmes ends up suffering from a potentially deadly illness, and the joke is on the joker.


End file.
